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Summary
He went completely still before his mouth slowly twisted into a smirk. The familiar smell of wood, antiseptic, and the house they used to share on the edge of town wafted from behind him, and he shut his eyes as he took a deep, slow breath. A dry chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he spoke with his eyes still closed. “Hey, baby.” His voice had dropped, gravely from both exhaustion and the sheer proximity of the man behind him.
“You got some nerve, dragging your sorry ass through my door again.” Said the doctor in that damned voice that never failed to make Sylus shiver.
“Always a pleasure, Doctor Zayne.” Sylus said, lifting the hand that wasn’t pressed to his side beside his head. “I’m unarmed. But you can double check if you’d like.”